Harry Potter and the Pet Shop of Hogwarts
by caspercumbuddyxi
Summary: Based off of Harry Potter 5, and loosely based off of the orig. Pet Shop of Horrors series, not including PSH: Tokyo. My ex wrote all the Count D parts and I think she wrote him OOC but whatever XD
1. Chapter 1

_#__ Notes from original author Marie: This story is __**extremely**__ AU, and even more TWT. I'm going to have D and his kind age "normally" until they hit eighteen, at which point it slows to a crawl. This is consistent with the fact that in the epilogue of the manga, twenty years after the rest of the series, "New D" appears to be about eighteen. D is fifteen. Leon is sixteen (about eight months older than D). Deal with it._

_I did not make up the shisa. It's an actual mythological creature. Erm... I believe that was a contradiction of terms, but oh well. They're supposed to be wards against various evils, and generally come in pairs. They look kind of like a cross between an oriental lion and a dog._

_Glossary:_

_Decima (mythological figure) the Roman version of Lachesis, one of the Greek Fates_

_Lachesis (n.) a genus of pit viper_

_Raion (n.) lion_

_Shishi (n.) lion_

_Shizumaru (v.) quiet down_

_I know that Japanese is not D's native language, but do you know how hard it is to find a dictionary that gives you Romanized Chinese translations? Pretty damn tough._

_"Blah" is normal speech_

_/Blah/ is the Sorting Hat or other telepathy_

_'Blah' is thoughts or response to telepathy, or a letter._

_"Blah" is Parseltongue_

_**"Blah"**__ is any other language_

_D's voice is androgynous in the manga. In the chapter "Deep," someone mistakes him for a girl despite having heard his voice. I hate the anime version, so I'm going to go with the manga on this one._

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. Now READ!_

_#Notes from co-author: Um... yeah, you'll see my notes in what were formerly footnotes but are now parenthesised ANs._

D sat quietly in his lonely compartment, with only a pair of small shisa pups and a hatchling pit viper that was coiled loosely around his neck underneath his cloak to keep him company. He looked up as the door slid open and three boys walked in. One was thin and appeared to be rather sophisticated, while the other two were muscle-bound and dumb-looking. The shisa in his lap began to growl, but he patted it on the head. (Which head?)

"Shh, Shishi-chan. Shizumaru," he whispered. He turned to look at the boys, donning his polite-yet-empty china doll smile. "Hello. May I help you?" he asked in his practiced 'helpful shopkeeper voice' that his grandfather had taught him to use when dealing with humans. (AN: "Dealing with Humans 101" by Sofu D. If you like that, you'll love our sequel, "Killing Humans 101" by Papa D)

The sophisticated-looking one stepped forward. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. " (AN: "The name's Bond. _James_ Bond.") "These are my friends Crabbe and Goyle. I'm a prefect, and I'm patrolling the train." He paused. "I don't think I've ever seen you around here before, and you're too old to be a First Year. What house are you in?"

"I am a transfer student from Asia, so I have not yet been placed in a house," he explained. "You may call me D." (AN: Death, destruction, and other highly pleasant D words!)

One of the dumb-looking ones, Goyle, snorted. "What kind of name is that?" he demanded. (AQ [Author's Quote]: "What kind of a name is Pugsley?" "It's Slavic for 'stomach pump.'" Though in this case, I think D is a letter of the alphabet. I could be wrong, though.)

D's smile quickly turned to a slight frown. "It is the name that my father gave to me, and his father gave to him, and so on for seven generations," he said quietly. (AN: Damn, these people have no imaginations.)

Draco frowned, looking at him closely. "Why aren't you in uniform yet?" he asked. D was wearing a plain black cheongsam with a black shirt and slacks underneath.

D's smile returned. "My cheongsam technically fits the dress code, so technically, I _am_ in uniform." (AN: So technically, he got you on a technicality. Technically.) The other shisa began to bark loudly at the three boys. "I am afraid that I must ask you to leave. Raion-chan does not seem to want you here." He turned to the lion/dog. "Raion-chan, shizumaru." The shisa quieted immediately.

A short time after the three left, a tall blonde boy with blue eyes peered through the compartment window, then walked in confidently. He stopped suddenly when he saw the snake poke its head out of the hood of the cloak. He had his wand out in a second.

"How'd a snake get in here?" he demanded.

D looked confused for a moment. "Oh! You mean Decima!" he said finally. "Don't worry. She won't hurt me."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Are her poison sacs removed or something?" he asked.

D looked appalled. "Of course not! I'd never do something like that to one of my pets. Now put that wand away." He stroked the snake's head with one finger reassuringly. _"It's alright, Decima. I won't let the mean human hurt you,"_ he whispered in a hiss.

The boy's grip on his wand tightened. "You're a Parselmouth!" he accused. (AN: And you're a dickhead. We all have our little problems.)

D looked confused. (AN: Funny, I never thought D looked anything like Alice. [Inside joke]) "Pardon?"

"You can talk to snakes!" the boy accused. "That's a Dark wizard thing!" D suddenly began to laugh.

"What the hell is so funny?" snapped Leon.

D finally got his laughter under control. "The unknown spawns fear. Fear spawns hate. Hate spawns prejudice. Snakes are cloaked in mystery, and thus they are feared. Snakes are feared, and thus they are hated. Snakes are hated, so they are rejected and labeled as 'Dark.'" (AN: You got a whole Domino thing goin' on there. Gonna call for pizza? Order me some too while you're at it.) He smirked. "It is not the _talent_ that is good or bad, it is what you _do_ with that talent. Isn't that right, Raion?"

The shisa barked and wagged its tail, panting happily. (AN: I'd be panting happily if I were that close to D, too.)

The boy lowered his wand and thought on this for a little while. (AN: Ooh, must have been a real struggle.) "I suppose you got a point there. Harry Potter's a Parselmouth, and he's no Dark wizard..."

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding," D said with a smile; a real, genuine smile that no human had ever had the privilege to see on his face before. (AN: Where else would they have seen it? Because I can't really imagine D smiling out his butt. But then again, you never know. Oh quiet, you stupid computer box.) "My name is D."

The boy smirked. "The name's Leon."

After Leon had sat down and they'd talked for a few minutes-–Leon explaining that the compartment his friends were in was too crowded for him–-the trolley finally arrived. D bought half the cart.


	2. Chapter 5: Bite This! chs 2thru4 missing

_AN: Yeah, um, chapters 2 - 4 were lost, so this was originally going to be ch. 5, but due to a screwup in encoding, it's now ch. … 2? Anyway, Draco and D basically put up with each other because they're in the same house; Leon somehow ended up in Gryffindor and is tolerated by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but I don't think Hermione likes him too well. Um… D had a run-in with Professor Umbitch… hackers are welcome to rewrite ch's 2 - 4 based on all this and what you've seen thus far. Oh yeah, and Marie wrote this chapter. I just wrote the notes. I don't know if she's on this site, but if she were, I think she'd be pigcatapult or some variation of that name. Yet another note: I did not publish this to spite Marie. That is all._

The next day, a large, dark purple, vulture-like bird with sharp teeth arrived and started shrieking at D.

The young kami shrunk back and shielded his face with his arms instinctively. Draco pulled out his wand, but paused when D made a few shrieking noises back.

The bird gave a hiss and flew away. "What the bloody hell was that about?" Draco asked finally.

"Grandfather must be very angry if he sent Hagetaka to scold me…" D said softly. "He says that I need to remember to respect my elders, regardless of how foolish they may be." (AN: And 'elder' she certainly is-- she's so old I'm surprised she hasn't been gored to death by a triceratops.)

The day passed uneventfully until five o'clock. That was when D had to go to Umbridge's office for detention. He ran into Harry Potter along the way.

D looked at Harry carefully as they walked. "Harry Potter, I presume?" he asked serenely, looking into a pair of eyes level with his own.

Harry nodded. "And you're D, right? What was all that stuff yesterday in Potions, about 'Your grandfather being who he is?'"

D paused, but then decided that it couldn't hurt to tell. "He is a Count in the Muggle world."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Wow."

Decima gazed up at Harry. "This is Potter boy Decima hear about?" she hissed, her speech broken by her youth. "The Potter boy that Malfoy boy speak so poorly of?" Her tongue flickered. "He understand Decima, yes? Orcot boy say so." Harry looked surprised. "Uh, yes. I understand you." Decima nudged D's chin with her nose. "Up! Up!" D rolled his eyes and raised one hand to Harry's shoulder, Decima happily slithering up his arm. "No biting," the young count warned. "Decima bite Potter boy? Never! Potter boy not smell like food." (AQ: The strife tastes like FOOD! Cupcakes taste like violence! In Soviet Russia, violins taste like cupcakes!) Harry felt a bit awkward walking with a hatchling snake curled loosely around his neck. When they reached Umbridge's office, D took Decima back and knocked on the door. Umbridge had them write lines. She made harry write, "I must not tell lies," and D, "I must not insult my betters." (Please excuse me while I explode: Better? _Better?!_ Umbridge is a pompous bitch! How could she _possibly_ be better than a sexy Chinese kami?!)

The instant D's quill touched the parchment, however, he cried and dropped it, toppling over backwards and landing hard on his elbows . He scrambled into a sitting position and brought his hand up to his face, licking a drop of blood off of the back of it. Umbridge smiled at him in a toad-like fashion. "Is there a problem?" she asked sweetly.

"Cutting Quills were banned at Hogwarts ten years ago," D snarled. (AN: Dude, Marie, that's screwing with the storyline. You're not supposed to screw with the established line like that. Not like we haven't totally been doing that anyway…)

Decima reared her head. "Evil hag human hurt son of Master's son!" she hissed in a scandalized tone. "Decima bite evil hag human!"

"No," D hissed firmly, catching the pit viper by the tail as she slithered down his body toward the ground. "That will only get us in more trouble." He smirked evilly at Umbridge. "I do believe that this calls for a letter to my grandfather. He will be most displeased."

Later that night, an owl was intercepted barely a minute after it was over the horizon and out of D's sight.


	3. Chapter 6: Papa D's Message

CHAPTER 6

_Notes: Marie wrote this chapter, not me. You'll be able to tell when it's me because I absolutely do not leave the 4__th__ wall intact at all. I break it by doing much more than just put ANs in parentheses. Ehehehe… again, Marie, if you're reading this, I did not put this up to spite you. If I did, my screen name would be "pigshatapult" or something like that __

The next morning, D was more than a little surprised when a small winged snake–-no more than half a foot long–-fluttered over to the teachers' table and landed on Umbridge's plate. Its scales and bat-like wings were the color of ivory, with evenly distributed bluish speckles on them that glittered like a hundred polished blue quartz shards. Jasper eyes glinted dully in the early morning light as they sized up the toad-like human. It fluttered into the air to be at eye-level with her, and a sparkling blue, inverted vortex half a yard in diameter appeared behind it. Thousands of indistinct whispering voices poured out of the portal.

"I am Shinja. I come bearing a message from Count D," she hissed in sibilant English, eyes glowing. A loud, clear voice rang out from the vortex:

"You made my son bleed, woman," the voice said angrily. "None but I am allowed to make my son bleed even a drop. His blood is too precious to be spilt for a petty purpose such as your idea of 'discipline.' I shall let you get away with it this time, for you are ignorant, but should it happen again... I shall send much worse than Shinja after you." There was a pause. "And believe me... I have my ways of knowing."

The vortex collapsed in on itself and Shinja flew over to D, looping herself snugly around his right wrist.

Silence reigned in the Great Hall. It was finally broken by a thud, as Umbridge fell over in a dead faint. (AN: I'm surprised she didn't start an earthquake.) Whispers abruptly began flying back and forth.

"Hey, D, what is that thing?" Draco asked, noticing that D looked about ready to faint as well.

"Father's way of monitoring me," the young kami answered miserably. "Shinja has a constant telepathic link with him."

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, The Golden Quartet were whispering among themselves.

"'Count?' His father's a Count?" Leon asked incredulously. "But that's a Western title!"

"Perhaps his father lives in Europe, or did at one time," Hermione reasoned.

Ron huffed. "What does the title matter? Did you see that swirly thing? They're definitely Dark wizards!"

Harry frowned, looking across the room at D, whom Malfoy was attempting to comfort. "I don't know..." he mused.

Most of the day went uneventfully, until Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins.


	4. Chapter 7: The Mysterious Warning

CHAPTER 7

_Notes: Marie wrote part of this, like… the first 8 paragraphs. After that, it's all mine XD I do indulge in some Mary Sue-age self-insertion, where I put my character Cinnamon in to warn Fred and George. I know realistically they would not be intimidated by some random chick, but whatevs. Flame me anyway if you want; there's no such thing as bad publicity._

"Now, who can tell me what these are?" Professor Grubbly-Plank asked. D's hand shot up, as did Hermione's. "Yes, you with the black hair."

"They're bowtruckles!" D said happily. "They guard trees which have wand-quality wood. To obtain wood or leaves from such a tree, one should give the resident bowtruckle or bowtruckles an offering of wood lice, which is their favored food. They do, however, eat fairy eggs whenever they can get them."

Professor Grubbly-Plank smiled. "Wonderful! Fifteen points to Slytherin! Now, if you'll all split up into groups of three, I'll give each group a bowtruckle, which I want you all to sketch. I expect all of the body parts to be labeled." (AN: O-_ka-ay_, if you _ say so_…)

Everyone split into groups immediately and without a second thought, until there were two people left without groups.

Leon stared openly at D, then at Professor Grubbly-Plank, then back at D. "You don't really expect me to work with that girly, snake-talking freak, do you?" he demanded of the professor, motioning to D with disgust.

D's eyes filled with tears. Leon took a step back, unsure why he was reacting this way to the fact that he'd made "one of them Slytherin bastards" cry. He should be proud of himself. Why was he feeling ashamed?

Professor Grubbly-Plank glared. "Ten points from Gryffindor and detention. You should know better than to treat your fellow students that way. He's done nothing to you. Now get your bowtruckle and get to work!"

Leon took a few steps toward D as the kami persuaded a bowtruckle to step onto his hand so that he could pick it up. The young Count brought the creature up to his face, and it slowly reached out toward one of his eyes. However, just as Leon was about to pull out his wand, the bowtruckle did something completely unexpected and wiped away a tear with the back of its curved claws.

"What the fuck?" asked Leon. "Whuh--How come it likes _you_?"

"Perhaps because I am, as you say, a 'freak,'" said D calmly. "She knows I won't hurt her, don't you girl? Yes," he cooed. "You, on the other hand, would do well to be cautious. I am not sure Mindy trusts you."

"Mindy? You fucking _named_ that thing?" Leon's eyes were bugging out of his head.

"No, you dolt," snapped D impatiently, an extreme rarity (which would become more common as he got to know Leon). "Mindy is the name her mother gave her. Have you no common sense?"

"Hey, don't yell at him," said Parvati. "He's only human, just like the rest of us."

D arched an eyebrow. "I would expect even a _human_ to know that all animals name their young," he said loftily.

'_What the hell? Even a human?'_ Leon frowned slightly. "And what would that make you?" asked Leon, every bit the know-it-all.

"Well, that would be--" started D nervously.

"That would be none of your damn business," cut in Draco Malfoy, casually resting a wrist on D's shoulder. "He's smart (_er than you_, at least), more talented, and--"

"And what, Drakey-poo? Are you in _wuv_ with him or something? Aaw, that's so cute," said Fred Weasley, who was going on a niffler-hunt with George and Lee.

"I'd watch it if I were you," came a low female voice behind Draco. A beautiful girl with silvery-white skin and a sheet of floor-length candy-brown hair stepped out from the shade of the tree. "D has very close ties to the vampire community in addition to his own place among a race of Chinese big shots." (No, this is not a reference to the Mafia. Actually, she's subtly implying that D is a Chinese god. Thing is, is it's so subtle that Fred and George don't pick up on it.) "I wouldn't taunt him if I were you. No spell you know can work against the, ah, company his family keeps. In fact, if I had to guess, I'd say that D's learning this not to defend himself, but to have a more powerful offense. So watch your bloody mouth about him, alright?" The girl departed.

"Who's _she_?" asked George.

"You mean, who does she think she is," said Fred. "Telling us off like that…"

"I think she was serious, Fred," said George, very serious himself. "I wouldn't mess with D anymore if I were you."

And from that point on, Fred and George (and even Peeves, eventually) left D alone. They didn't find out who the girl was for quite a while, but as it's not important to the general plot, I'll leave that particularly juicy detail out for now.

If only Leon were able to take a hint as quickly as Fred and George….


	5. Chapter 8: Meet Me at Midnight

CHAPTER 8

_Notes: I can't remember who wrote what! DX Oh well. Marie and I both wrote this one. I honestly don't think D cares about being nice or not… this is progressing much faster than the canon Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, but then again, it's also meant to be much more whimsical._

That weekend, Malfoy dragged D over to the Quidditch pitch to make fun of the Gryffindors. D did not particularly enjoy it.

"Draco," D said timidly, "It isn't very nice for you to make fun of them."

"Do you think I care?" Draco asked in response. "They're _Gryffindors!_ Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers!"

D sighed. There was no reasoning with him. _"Idiots, the lot of them,"_ he muttered to Decima. She hissed in agreement.

On Monday, D sighed with annoyance at the events unfolding in the morning paper. "High Inquisitor, eh?"

Leon walked up to D, hands in pockets. (AN: I'd put a footnote here, but it seems pointless.) "Hey. Wanna duel tonight? Show off your skill? Hermione wants to know how much magic you know." It was a lame reason, but Leon couldn't take it back.

"Uh…alright. I'll meet you in the Potions dungeon at midnight."

"Cool," said Leon, then departed.

Shinja gazed up at D for a moment, then spoke. "I must depart to hunt," she hissed. "Your father says to not get yourself into any trouble while I am gone."

"Well, you can tell Father that I shall do whatever I damn well please, and that it's none of his business to interfere if I get in trouble or not," D snapped at the serpent. He gave a cry of pain a second later as Shinja bit him.

"Respect your elders, boy," Shinja hissed scathingly as she fluttered away from his wrist and toward one of the windows for the owls to come in and out. "Your defiant nature is what gets you punished." (Yes, but his defiant nature is also what makes him so sexy!)

D's eyelids began to droop, and he slumped over in his seat and onto Malfoy's shoulder, not unconscious, but merely unable to move. It would wear off in a few hours, but until then, he had no control over what happened around him.

"D? D!" Draco was downright panicked. "Professor Snape!" he called.

The professor was there in a second. "What happened?"

"The white flying snake-thing bit D, and he just fell over," Pansy answered, a worried look on her face.

D was brought to the hospital wing to recover. Madam Pomfrey quickly diagnosed the problem, and gave him a mild mobility potion so that he could at least talk, so that they could get a better idea of what they could do to help.

"There are no lasting side effects, but also no antidote. It wears off on its own. There is nothing to be done but wait the poison out," D mumbled.

"Even so," huffed Madam Pomfrey, "I shall have to ask you to be on bed rest overnight."

A sort of panic seized D. "Bed rest? I can't move from this bed?"

"Yes, that would entail bed rest," said Madam Pomfrey, somewhat exasperated.

"But--but Leon! I--I promised…we have…" D's breath came in short gasps. "…I have…to meet…" D passed out. The poison in D's system cut off the longevity of the mobility potion, so struggling as he did made him weak.


	6. Chapter 9: D Becomes a Woman!

CHAPTER 9

_Notes: I think this is the first one I wrote all by myself! Yay! I'm a big kid now, boop! Prepare for the utter bulldozing of the so-called "fourth wall!"_

D woke up and stole away from the hospital wing. On his way back to his dorm, he bumped into Peeves, who greeted D with a deep bow. "Leon the Peon is looking for you," he said, then zoomed away, cackling madly.

Sure enough, Leon came charging up to D. "Where the hell have you been!" he shouted. "What about our duel?!"

"Leon…" said D, putting his head in his hands, "I was in the hospital wing. Remember? Shinja bit me."

"Oh," said Leon, abashed, and then, to save face, "Did you have fun with all the pretty nurses?"

"There's only one nurse, you half-wit," shouted D.

"Well, did you have fun with that one?" asked Leon. He was getting more and more pwned by the minute.

"Well, if your idea of 'fun' includes having a potion shoved down your throat and passing out, then yes, tremendously," said D, looking like he was about to punch Leon. (AN: No, I think he prefers to have something ELSE shoved down his throat before passing out.) "And I wouldn't exactly consider Madam Pomfrey a 'pretty nurse!' I prefer my dentist back home."

"Why not?" asked Leon. D choked in surprise.

"Do you need glasses?! She's way too old for me!"

"So?" asked Leon. "That means she's probably more experienced."

"In what?!" asked D, incredulously.

"Come on, I'll show you," said Leon. "Let's go to the Potions supply closet."

Even for his naïveté, it didn't take D long to figure out what Leon was talking about.

"Leon, no! What if we get into trouble? You know Professor Snape hates Gryffindors like you, and you've already got detention from Umbridge!"

"Come on, already! The more time we waste bickering, the less time we'll have to ourselves! Do you want to become a woman or not?"

Well, D didn't know about that, but he stopped protesting and allowed Leon to lead him into the Potions supply closet. They had been going at it hot and heavy for thirty minutes when D heard the door open. "Oh fffffffffffuzz!" he exclaimed, the closest the kami had ever come to cussing. All of a sudden the door to the supply closet flew open, and there stood Snape in all his demonic, glorious ugliness (well, my cowriter wanted me to write "demonic glory," but I had to note just how freakin ugly the guy looked at this particular point in time, didn't I? Surprisingly, he's even more hideous than usual because it's too early in the morning and he hasn't put on his mud mask and cucumber eye thingies yet.)

Anyway, Snape looked furious…er. Is that a word? Aw hell, we'll make it one. He glared down at the profoundly grinding couple and yelled, in a bark that would surprise even a coyote, "What the frog's balls do you think you're doing? D, kissing a Gryffindor! You ought to know better! You're the son of a count for the gods' sakes!"

"I'm the son of a lying, conniving, evil, son-squicking bastard," replied D.

"And that's precisely why you should be above such petty behavior as tongue wars with Gryffindors!" Snape was too furious to comprehend a word D just said behind "son of a."

"Yo, spinach-breath! I don't think you're taking in all the details here! See, I'm on top! It was my idea!" shouted Leon, an extremely stupid move. You can read more about it in the best-selling book What's Mr. Jones's Last Name Again? by Iso Dumb.

"Detention, the both of you!" yelled Snape, livid. "Orcot, you will meet me here every evening for a week to clean out cauldrons. No magic. Is that understood?"

"Dur yeth dur," thed--er, I mean, said, Leon.

"And D, you are to meet me here this time tomorrow morning. Bring a quill, ink, and five rolls of parchment. You will be writing 'I will not kiss a Gryffindor.' Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor," said D, hanging his head meekly.

"And for Hera's sakes, put your pants back on," said Snape disgustedly to the both of them. "Nobody wants to see that!"

D was irked that Snape considered Leon and D nobodies. He's so vain!


	7. Chapter 10: Professor Hotlips

CHAPTER 10

_Notes: Marie wrote like the last part… I wrote the rest. I do reference a fanfiction not yet published, but when it is, you'll know which one to look for. I did sort of rape Marie's work by adding my own comments and stuff, but otherwise I kept everything she wrote intact. The uppy-downy thing is an inside joke and originated from Just Shoot Me. Lulfulness! In case you can't tell our writing styles apart, I write the silly stuff and she writes the deep and serious stuff. Also, I always have a reason for the characters being OOC, like Snape for instance, because of the giddy potion, and she just writes them how she wants. Ohyeah, Giddy is also an inside joke meaning "cheerleader on crack." I forgot why that's the code, but… I remember it was made cuz we were at this school where they wouldn't let us have free speech._

Turns out that Leon and D weren't the only ones caught making out. Also, for those of you who still had doubts, turns out Snape's a frickin hypocrite. He was caught making out with Professor Trelawney in the Astronomy tower by Nearly Headless Nick, who reported it to the Bloody Baron, who took the matter to Professor Dumbledore. I'm not sure exactly how Dumbledore took care of the situation, but rumor has it that they could hear Snape's cries from miles around. Huh. I didn't know soulless creatures had tear ducts. I'll have to look into that.

That whole "caught-in-the-act" thing was made famous by that evening, as Peeves had heard Snape muttering about it all morning long and did his very best to humiliate the ole beak-face by singing rude, crude songs about it all day long. Indeed, the very next morning, when D came in to do detention, he saw that somebody (my money's on Fred and George) magically tattooed the word HOTLIPS across Snape's forehead. D secretly couldn't wait till Double Potions.

His levity didn't last very long, though. Writing lines was seriously annoying, especially when D knew he could be brushing up on his animal-summoning skills. Ah well, he couldn't curse Snape into oblivion without Professor Dumbledore noticing, so he just had to tough it out. Wow, what a concept.

Potions class, as D had predicted, was a bloody riot.

"Yo, Professor Hotlips! How ya doin, man?" called out Leon, as though his actions yesterday hadn't been dumb enough.

"Watch it, Mattress," snarled Snape.

"Goodness," said D mildly. "You sound just like my father, Professor, ah, Hotlips." Leon blew a kiss to D.

Snape looked confused. (No offense, Alice.) "You will address me as Professor Snape or not at all," he snapped.

"O-kay then," said Leon. "Yo, not at all! How ya doin, man? yelled Leon. Damn, what'd he have for breakfast, Carnation Instant Stupid?

"Do not call me man!" shouted Snape in outrage.

"O-kay then," said Leon. "Yo, Not At All! How ya doin, woman?" screamed Leon, his eyes popping.

"Uh, Professor? I think D's boyfriend is drunk," said Harry, grinning. As if to prove Harry right, Leon started singing something to the Lone Ranger tune.

"Uppy-down, uppy-down, uppy-down-down-down. Uppy-down, uppy-down, uppy-down-down-down. Uppy-down, uppy-down, uppy-down-down-down…uppy-DOWN, uppy-down-down­-down."

"Are you quite done yet?" asked D, embarrassed and thisclosetohittinghisheadonthewall--andpleasedon'taskwhichhead.

"Downy-up, downy-up, downy up-up-up, downy-up, downy-up, downy-up-up-up. Downy-up, downy-up, downy up. Up. Up… Downy UP… downy up-up-up," replied Leon, grinning.

"Orcot! This is a Potions class, not karaoke night at an S&M club!" shouted Snape. If the whole class wasn't looking bug-eyed before, they sure as hell were now.

"What's an S&M club?" asked D naively.

"It's a place where you go and beg for torture," replied Harry. "I heard my cousin Dudley talking about it once. He got kicked out of one because he was overqualified as a sadist."

"I'll bet," said Leon. "I've seen your cousin, and I'd have to say that just one good look at his ugly mug would be enough torture to last a lifetime--even for the hard-core masochists."

"What is a 'sadist'?" asked D.

"Yo," replied Leon, raising his hand.

"Uh…" D wasn't quite sure he understood, and he was afraid to ask for more detail. "And what's a 'masochist'?"

"Yo," replied Ron, pointing to Hermione. She's gotta be--she tortures herself with books every bloody day!"

"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione. "It is not torture, and I'm not a masochist!"

"Once again, what's a masochist?" asked D. He was starting to get frustrated.

"What kind of an idiot are you?" explained Hermione. (AQ: "What kind of a sycophant are you?" "What kind of a sycophant would you like me to be?)

"That's not a good explanation," said D, casting a meaningful glance down at his long, razor-sharp fingernails.

"It's somebody who enjoys being in pain," supplied Pansy.

"Thank you," said D, graceful as ever. "Now we can stop wasting Professor Snape's precious time with moronical banter. And may I say, that's an exquisite looking potion!" D knew he sounded like a brownnose, but he didn't particularly care. He was fascinated by the swirling colors in the Potion Master's cauldron.

"Finally, a student who can appreciate the fine art of potion making! This here is a very special potion whose recipe was imported from Idayott-Hophea at the turn of the century.

"Idiotopia?" asked Leon giddily, sounding like a cheerleader on crack. "Your homeland?"

Snape snarled. "I've had quite enough of your insolence, boy. Another two weeks of detention for you!"

"Well whoopty-tap-dancing-doo," said Leon sarcastically. "That is so fucking original of you… Hotlips."

"That's Professor Hotlips to you," snarled Snape, upon whom the Idayott-Hophean potion was clearly having an effect. "And don't say the 'fuck' word! Down to business, I say, to see which one of you idiots can properly brew the Vertigo Tonic. Have at it, giddy-heads!"

The class looked momentarily stunned but proceeded to follow the directions that had just appeared on the board.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER…

"Your potions should be pink with purple polka dots and emitting black sparks," said Professor Hotlips--uh, I mean, Professor Not At All--Professor Man?---uh, no--Professor Woman…? HELP!!!

Leon scowled. His own potion was currently a deep shade of blue and emitting red and orange sparks, and--

Leon swore loudly, uttering the forbidden "fuck" word several times in rapid succession--and some other forbidden words along with it.

The potion was eating through the cauldron and beginning to spew all over the floor. Leon jumped back just in time to avoid getting sprayed with it himself, and quickly put as much distance as he could between his cauldron and himself, his nearby classmates following suit. Professor Snape tried to Vanish it, but the potion took on a thick, gooey consistency and began to expand slowly, corroding away the floor as it went. It's eroding! Eroding I say!!!

D pulled his wand from his sleeve. "May I try something, Professor?" he asked quietly, but was barely heard over the panic of the other students, who were all scrambling for the door.

"Like what?" Snape demanded irritably, a slight hint of fear in his voice as well.

"I've seen such a thing before. It's called a Caustic Slime. My father concocted it once in his lab. As such, I know how to get rid of it," the kami explained.

"Go ahead!" Snape said hurriedly, as the potion was about to eat through his highly fashionable pumps, which he had bought while on vacation in Frisco. When asked if he wanted the pumps wrapped or if he would prefer to wear them, he had replied that he didn't buy them to have them sealed up in a box. The storekeeper had gotten angry and magically Superglued them onto Snape's feet, but, uh, that's another story. Um ...let's get back to Potions now!

D murmured a short prayer for the blue creature's soul --if it had one--and pointed his wand at the Slime. "Avada Kedavra! "

Everyone froze in their tracks as a jet of green light shot out of the wand-tip and hit the slime. It instantly began to shrivel into nothing more than a wrinkled black husk. D calmly put his wand away.

"You should be able to safely Vanish it now," he said quietly.

Snape looked bug-eyed at D. No, he did not want to give him a thank-you kiss. Instead--

"Go to the Headmaster's office! Now!"

"Can't you handle a little bit of basic magic?" sneered D, irked that his saving of Snape's shoes hadn't earned him any gratitude.

"Basic? Basic?! You call that basic?"

"Apparently," said D indifferently, shrugging.

"But-but-but--" Snape had to work to regain his composure. "That's the Killing Curse!"

"Yes, I'm aware of that," said D. "That's why the Slime went away." D spoke as though explaining to a five-year-old that C-A-T spells "cat."

"That's a Death Eater 's curse!" shouted Draco. "My father--uh--" Draco blushed, aware that he had basically just "outed" himself .

"What the Kirin's eyeballs is a Death Eater?" asked D.

"It's the Dark Lord's followers!" shouted Snape.

"Dark Lord? What Dark Lord? Who's a Dark Lord?" asked D naïvely.

"It's Lord Voldemort!" called Harry. Everyone save for Harry and D flinched.

"Lord Moldy Wart?" asked D, puzzled.

"Voldemort! V-O-L-D-E-M-O-R-T! Voldemort!" shouted Harry like he was at a spelling bee. Everyone save Harry and D flinched again.

"What is a Voldemort? Is that something you eat?"

"I don't want to know," groaned Leon.

"Voldemort! The Dark Lord! The guy that's responsible for this," said Harry, pulling back his bangs and exposing his scar. D's face lit up in comprehension.

"Is he one of those sadist people you were talking about?" he chirped happily.

Now Harry was thisclosetohittinghisheadonthewall--andpleasedon'taskwhichhead. "He's fairly sadistic, yes," said Harry patiently. "He killed loads of people with the Avada Kedavra curse.

"Human people?" D tried, and failed, to hide his excitement. "You'll have to introduce him to Father."

Harry blinked. "Are you evil?" he asked. "Or are you just insane?"

"I am not evil," snarled D. "It is you human people who are responsible for the death of millions of species! You selfish, ignorant--"

"That's quite enough!" snapped Snape. "Headmaster's office, now!"


	8. Chapter 11: Busted! Or not

CHAPTER 11 Notes: I can't remember who wrote this-- if it was just me or if Marie did too. So I'll just say we both did. Anyway, it's short and lazily written, but for some reason we didn't think D should be punished so... yeah.

Dumbledore surveyed D calmly over the tops of his half-moon glasses. I d say you had quite an interesting Potions class, he said.

D blinked in surprise. You knew about that? he asked. He would certainly have to learn to stop underestimating the human race much.

Indeed, said Dumbledore. I heard it all the way up here.

How--is that possible? asked D, further stunned.

Well, you weren t exactly quiet, said Dumbledore. Besides which, Mr. Fred Weasley lent me some Extendable Ears, with which I have entrusted Fawkes.

Do you and Fawkes have a telepathic connection? asked D.

In a way, said Dumbledore enigmatically. He walked to D and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. I d say it was fatherly, but considering what Papa D is like, maybe I d better not. I would like to praise you, continued Dumbledore, for your insight and intelligence. It is a rare person indeed who knows that magic is not dark or light in and of itself.

I have been taught that it is not the magic, but the intent of the user, that is light or dark.

Really? And who taught you this? asked Dumbledore, his light blue eyes surveying D s mismatched ones and settling on his gold one.

M-my grandfather, sir, said D humbly. He could sense that Dumbledore was an intelligent human, if such a creature existed, and not one with whom to be trifled.  
Indeed, indeed, said Dumbledore gravely. The original Count D, I presume?

D blinked but quickly regained composure. Yes, sir.

Ah, I see. He was a very good man. Dumbledore smiled at D over his half-moon glasses.

You knew my grandfather?

I was once a patron of his pet shop. He sold me Fawkes. We became good friends, and he has aided me many a time. D wasn t sure whether Dumbledore was referring to Sofu D or to Fawkes, but he nodded and smiled his china doll smile, as he had been taught to do when he didn t know what was going on.

Dumbledore smiled back. As you intentions were innocent enough, I will not demerit you or your House. I would caution you, however, to abstain from using the Killing Curse in the future. It could be taken badly by those who do not know your intentions. Furthermore, it is illegal.

Yes, sir, said D, looking down at his exquisitely long-nailed hands.

Very well. You may return to class. 


	9. Chapter 12: The Muggle Convention

CHAPTER 12

_Notes: I think I wrote this… I wrote the "speech" when I was like 12 or 13, I think maybe 12. I thought it'd be funny. Since then it's gone through many evolutions and is not supposed to make any actual sense. Yeah, um, I also parodied the Mountain Dew Code Red radio commercial--luffles-- and added a lame That 70's Show reference. Ok, and an amendment to the last note. I do sometimes write people out of character and am using weird animal-body-part references that I know none of them would ever say but... meh._

When D got back, it was time for History of Magic. He slipped in, quiet as Professor Binns himself, and took his seat unnoticed next to Harry.

Professor Binns shuffled his notes. Leon snickered.

"What?" snapped Hermione, looking supremely annoyed.

"You'll see. D gave me a piece of parchment earlier that I gave to Fred and George, who snuck up here and--well, you'll see."

Hermione scowled, but couldn't demand more detail as she was of the vague lately herself.

"Duh Dentistry so Tragic has always dunce hindered the bed vacation of dung glitches and gizzards to be an excited whim court dance," read Professor Binns. The class looked at him, stunned, and started to giggle. Professor Binns was unfazed. "The dare sifts all tattered and torn may come to nothing if not neutered and cloned with careless destruction."

"What is going on here?" hissed Hermione.

"D's new _friends_ rewrote Umbridge's speech," said Ron, pronouncing _friends_ with a strong contempt; although right now, Ron was admiring the Slytherins. Not that he'd ever admit it. "According to D, Pansy was mocking the speech the whole way through and Malfoy wrote it down and gave it to D, who gave it to Leon, who gave it to Fred and George, who snuck up here and replaced Binns's notes with it.

"The bank sent pills unique to the Gizzarding community must be fast frowned through the desperation lest we choose to be unclever." More than half the class was now paying rapt attention--even those who hadn't actually listened to Umbridge's speech could pick up that this was a spoof. D secretly subtitled Binns's "lesson" with sentences from the original speech so the class could get the spoofs.

"The pleasure stove of tragical spoilage abashed by our grand thefters must be farted, banished, and demolished by those who have been falled by the humble depression of leeching."

"I never thought I'd hear stodgy old Binns say 'farted,'" whispered Ron to Leon. Leon grinned. Hermione, however, was not amused.

"Do you realize how much trouble you will be in if Dumbledore finds out about this?" she hissed. "Leon, I ought to put you in detention!"

"Did you have a bowl of Bitchios for breakfast or what? Lighten up!"

Harry and Ron held their breath. They both knew Hermione well enough to know that she wouldn't take to being called a bitch very well. But before she could respond, a paper airplane smacked Leon directly on his carotid artery.

"Ow! What the fuck?!" he snarled before opening the note. _How mature and original it is to try to insult a human with animal references_, it read sarcastically. _Now I see why Prof. Dumbledore was absolutely torn between the decision of whether to make you or Ron Weasley a prefect._

Leon looked around at D, who cheekily blew him a kiss. _Now_ Hermione was laughing. Or could that have just been because of the next part of Binns's "lesson"?

"Every bred bastard and dead sister of Frog Snorts has brought pumpkin goo to the Hades flask of mothering his boring fool, and that is a good spree, for without dog breath there will be carnations on Drag's Day."

Just then, a short, squat shadow appeared in the doorway. Three guesses who, and the first two don't count.

Professor Binns didn't seem to notice.

"There again, dog breath for bog mess's sake must be flourished, for our fried and bested admissions often conspire no clinkering. A talent, then, between mold and spew, between earnest fangs, between inhibitions in adoration, because some dangers will be for the wetter, while others will come, when jewels have limes, to be recognized as terrors that Fudge meant," he droned. Professor Frog-face gave a prissy little "_Hem, hem_," but Binns was undistracted. "Meanwhile, some cold rabbits will be restrained, and fiery goats, whereas others, goaded with corn, must be a cad's friend. Let us groove doorwood then, into a new era of dopiness, defectiveness, and counting celery, intent on unnerving what ought to be deserved, defecting what needs to be perfected, and mooning whenever we find hag riches that ought to be inhibited."

Leon stood up and cheered. The rest of the class followed suit, save for Hermione and Umbridge.

"Professor Binns!" said Umbridge shrilly. "What is that you're reading?!"

"This is my lesson," said Binns shortly. "If you have a problem with my lesson plan, take the matter to the headmaster."

"Let's blow this pop stand," whispered Leon. The Golden Quartet stood, and the rest of the class followed suit.

"Oh no you don't! Orcot!" snapped Umbridge. "Mr. Orcot, will you come here, please?" she asked in her falsely sweet voice.

"Yeah?" asked Leon casually.

"I know you were responsible for this."

"For what?" Leon continued his act of complete nonchalance.

"You know perfectly well for what! For this lesson!"

Leon frowned. "Professor, I have no idea what the rabbit's whip you're talking about. I have never helped a teacher plan a lesson. It's bad enough I have to hear them in class--do I really need that torture after hours?" To the rest of the class, he said, "C'mon, y'all. Who's comin' with me to the Muggle convention? We're goin' now, people!"

"A Muggle convention?" asked Harry blankly, when they were safely outside the classroom.

"Don't you read the notice board?" snapped Hermione, who was still traumatized after History of Magic. "It's a special annual thing where the shops in Hogsmeade all sell Muggle paraphernalia. Ah, here we are!" she said in relief as they stepped inside Hogsmeade.

"My dad would love that," said Ron. "I'll have to bring him back an oven toaster."

"What?" asked Hermione, looking puzzled.

"An oven toaster. You know, you put bread in it and--"

"It's called a _toaster oven_, Ron. Honestly, don't you know anything?"

"No more Bitchy Pills for you, Little Miss Crabby Ass," muttered Leon.

"I heard that," griped Hermione.

"Stop fighting," said Harry, exasperated. "Let's just go and get Mr. Weasley a toaster oven. Oh, Ron, there are also some candy I want to show you. It's called a Milky Way bar."

"Wild," murmured Ron. "Hey, what's that over there?" Ron pointed.

"That's what we call a 'soda vendor.' You'd know that if you ever shopped anywhere besides Butterbeers R Us," said Leon crossly.

"And that red stuff--Oh wow, I've heard of this! Mountain Dew Code Red," said Ron reverently.

"Well go get some!" said Leon.

"Really?" Ron seemed too afraid to disturb the holy nectar.

"Yeah! God knows you need a good…kick…in the cherries," said Leon, remembering a commercial and smirking.

"Is that what they call it?" asked Ron, his face lighting up like Christmas.

"Uh…yeah," said Leon unconvincingly. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Leon added loudly, "We'll be at Zonko's buying whoopee cushions. Go, get your kick in the cherries--oh, and better get it on ice."

"Right then," said Ron, marching up to the vendor. "Oi, you, I'll have a kick in the cherries!"

The vendor, Bob, looked at Ron like he was insane. Well, Ron is insane--and gullible at that--but that's not the point. "I'm not going to give you a kick in the cherries!"

"Why not?" asked Ron, looking thoroughly put out.

"Because you have _problems_," said Bob.

"Aw, come on," wheedled Ron. "I'm paying."

"Well, if you say so…the customer is always right…"

Over at Zonko's, Harry, Leon, and Hermione heard a resounding "UUWAAAARRRRGHHH!"

"That sounded like it was coming from the soda vendor!" said Harry. Leon began to snicker evilly. Hermione rounded on him.

"This is all your fault, you know," she lectured severely. "You're the one who told him to get a good kick in the cherries!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking the same thing!"

"Well, I--That's not the point, Leon! What you did is wrong!"

"Yeah, yeah." Leon yawned hugely. "C'mon, let's go help him out."

"_BLOODY HELL, MAN! ARE YOU OFF YOUR ROCKER?!!!!!!!_"

"Holy hell, Ron, yell a little louder why don't you? They can't hear you in China!" snapped Leon. "Get some balls, why don't you! You're screaming like a fucking girl!"

"If you haven't noticed, this idiot of a vendor just debased my balls," snapped Ron back. "I tried to ask him for a Mountain Dew Code Red the way you told me, and he bloody kicked me!"

"Oh, you meant a kick _of_ cherry," said Bob.

"What?"

"Mountain Dew Code Red: Do a kick _of_ cherry, not a kick _in the_ cherries!"

"What the--" Ron rounded on Leon. "This is all your fault you moron!"

"What the fuck! Why does everybody pick on me?!"

"You're the one who told me to go get a bloody kick in the bloody cherries!"

"Hey! Buy something or get out! I got a big wedding coming in!" interjected Bob.

"Bob, you don't have a big wedding coming in," said Leon.

"Did I say that? Because I meant to say, Buy something or get out!"

"Fine," said Harry. "Four Mountain Dew Code Reds." Harry put down a few Galleons.

"What do you call this?" asked Bob smarmily, fingering a gold coin.

Harry snatched back the Galleons and put down a 100-lb bill in their place. "Keep the change," he muttered.

"Where'd you get that? I thought you said Petunia and Vernon don't give you money!" said Hermione suspiciously.

"The… Internet?" asked Harry. He then went on to explain what the Internet was to a hobbling Ron before Hermione could question him further.


	10. Chapter 13: Cho's Essay

CHAPTER 13

_Notes: I know, I put Cho really out of character, but I've had this unreasonable hatred of her ever since book 3, so yeah. It's not jealousy, by the way. I just hate the bitch. Anyway, there is some bad language in her essay, which is a parody of the essays everybody at Esther B. Clark has to write when they get in trouble. I also quoted Buffy for gods know what reason… Oh yeah, and this whole chapter was written by me. I think. This will be the last chapter until my tired half-wit brain can come up with some new material, which would require re-reading the books... ugh... thinking bad... bed good..._

"Bloody hell," complained Ron when they got back from Hogsmeade.

"For Marilyn Monroe's sake, Ron, nobody wants to hear about your 'cherries' anymore!" growled Leon.

"Who the bloody hell is Marilyn Monroe? And it's not about that!"

"Sex goddess. What then?"

"Can you believe how much that Chang girl was crying? She's like Moaning Myrtle, only worse!"

"I know what you mean," said Leon. "Chang makes Myrtle look like a badass. So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'?"

"You're a prefect! Do something about it!"

"Like what?"

"Make her write lines or copy an essay or something."

"What if it makes her cry even more?"

"This is ridiculous," said Hermione. "You can't give somebody an essay just for crying."

"Watch me," said Ron. "Who's going to help me write it up?"

Harry had mysteriously disappeared at this point, and Hermione along with him. (AN: MYSTERIOUS! This cookie holds secrets!) Wonder what they're up to? Ah well, it's probably none of our business. Besides, I kinda get the feeling I don't want to know. Let's just watch Ron and Leon compose an essay, shall we? Oh, here comes D to join them! Well, the more the merrier!

"Well, first we should have her say why she's copying this essay," said D sensibly, using his telepathy to figure out what was going on.

"Well, that's easy: She's more of a crybaby than Moaning Myrtle," replied Ron.

"Very well," said D, tapping a piece of parchment with his wand so that the words _I am copying this essay because I am more of a crybaby than Moaning Myrtle _appeared.

"Let's go to the library to figure this out," suggested D.

"Are you bloody off your rocker?" demanded Ron.

"No. We'll take turns tapping the parchment with our wands so there won't be a need to speak," said D.

"That's…brilliant," said Leon. D blushed as though Leon had kissed him. Don't we all wish he had?

By suppertime, this is what they had:

_I am copying this essay because I am more of a crybaby than Moaning Myrtle. People do not like me when I cry. I want people to like me. Everybody deserves respect who is not a Slytherin, but nobody will respect me if I am such an annoying crybaby._

_I have control over my behavior. I can control myself and act age-appropriate. Crying like a baby is not age appropriate unless you just got socked in the mouth by Hermione or tasered in the balls with Snape's wand. I was not crying for either of these reasons so I should just deal with it._

_Copying this essay is a waste of my time. I could be doing something else. If I stop being such a bloody crybaby, I will not have to copy this annoying essay in the future. If I cried while writing this essay, I will have to rewrite it._

_1. Why am I copying this essay? (What did I do? Please note that that "Because bloody what's-his-face said so" is NOT an acceptable answer.)_

_2. I choose to be more of a crybaby than Moaning Myrtle because…_

_3. Five things I can do to stop being such a snot-nosed crybaby are…_

_4. Ten reasons I should be age-appropriate are…_

_5. 15 positive things about the teacher or prefect who assigned this essay are…_

"Bloody brilliant," whispered Ron.

"I think we're ready," said Leon. As if on cue, Cho walked into the library, howling like a wolf. Madam Pince did not look pleased.

"Oi, Chang!" scream-whispered Ron. "Cut the crying or I'll give you detention!"

"I c-c-can't!" hiccupped Cho. "I-I-I--" She erupted into a fresh round of wails.

"_Silencio_!" snapped Ron and Leon together, pointing their wands at Cho. "That's it! Detention tonight! I'm getting bloody sick of your crying. We all are. Meet us after supper and we'll give you the essay!"

They met after supper. Ron gave Cho the essay. At midnight, she finally turned it in. (She had had to restart it several times due to crying.)

"Well, let's see it, then."

_I am copying this essay because I am more of a crybaby than Moaning Myrtle. People do not like me when I cry. I want people to like me. Everybody deserves respect who is not a Slytherin, but nobody will respect me if I am such an annoying crybaby._

_I have control over my behavior. I can control myself and act age-appropriate. Crying like a baby is not age appropriate unless you just got socked in the mouth by Hermione or tasered in the balls with Snape's wand. I was not crying for either of these reasons so I should just deal with it._

_Copying this essay is a waste of my time. I could be doing something else. If I stop being such a bloody crybaby, I will not have to copy this annoying essay in the future. If I cried while writing this essay, I will have to rewrite it._

_1. I am copying this essay because Ron the Tornado-hater and his stuck-up mates have a problem with people who are in touch with their feelings._

_2. I choose to be more of a crybaby than Moaning Myrtle because…it's more productive than ambushing random people with pointless asinine essays._

_3. Five things I can do to stop being such a snot-nosed crybaby are…kiss my arse, shove this essay up your arse, fuck you, eat cowshite and die, and go play in Muggle traffic._

_4. Ten reasons I should be age-appropriate are…so I won't have to copy this lame-arsed essay, so I won't have to answer these lame-arsed questions, so Harry Potter will think I'm pretty, so D's boyfriend won't put a curse on me in the library, so Pansy Parkinson won't mistake me for a first year, so I can get a butterbeer without Mommy having to buy it for me, so the weird men at the Hog's Head stop asking me if I'm "lost, little girl," so Professor Sprout will let me touch the Mandrakes, so I can kick your arse, and so I can take this essay and shove it up your arse._

_5. 15 good things about the teacher or prefect who assigned this essay are…Ron Weasley is good at complaining, he's good at doing pointless things, he's good at annoying everyone around him, he's good at being an inconsiderate prick, he's good at screwing up spell-work, he's good at puking slugs, he's good at making himself look like a fool, he's good at getting kicked in the cherries, he's good at being lazy, he's good at getting his friends to do everything for him, he's good at letting the Quaffle in, he's good at taking a Bludger to the stomach, he's good at playing Harry Potter's lapdog, he's good at making himself sound as stupid as Gregory Goyle, he's good at looking like a damn sissy whenever there's a spider around, and he's good at kissing his pillow and pretending it's his Great Aunt Tessie._

"Right then," said Ron, red-faced. "I'll just show this to Professor McGonagall and be on my way, then."

"Your mouth's open. Sound's coming from it. That's never good," said Leon as they walked back to the Gryffindor common room.

"What now?" challenged Ron.

"Well, you're kinda like a moron," explained Leon. "You want to show this essay to Professor McGonagall to get Chang in trouble, but when she sees what you made her copy, you're going to be the one in trouble."

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"Uh, well…" Leon looked flustered. D, who had taken to lurking outside the Fat Lady's portrait lately (gee, maybe because of his new boyfriend?), gently removed the essay from Ron's hands and scanned it, reading aloud the offending parts.

" 'I am copying this essay because I am more of a crybaby than Moaning Myrtle'--"

"Well, that _is_ why she's copying the essay!"

D ignored Ron. " 'Everybody deserves respect who is not a Slytherin'--"

"You're just upset because _you're_ a bloody Slytherin!"

" '--but nobody will respect me if I am such an annoying crybaby…' 'Crying like a baby is not age-appropriate unless you just got socked in the mouth by Hermione or tasered in the balls with Snape's wand. I was not crying for either of these reasons so I should just deal with it.'"

"Well…well, it's true! She _should_ just deal with it," said Ron defensively, but his defense was rather weak. "Besides, look at the answers she wrote to the questions!"

"Mr. Weasley, what is going on here? What is all this racket? Miss Granger has been complaining that she's having trouble studying because of it!" Professor McGonagall appeared right behind Ron.

"Professor, look at this! Look at what she answered to the questions!"

"I beg your pardon?"

D piped up. "Ron gave Cho Chang detention and made her copy an essay because she was crying quite loudly in the library, and it was interfering with _his_ studying," he said. Ron and Leon blinked. Neither of them had known that D was such a smooth talker. Leon felt an unexplainable rush of affection for D.

"Let me see that," said Professor McGonagall. Her eyebrows knitted as she read the essay, but D could tell from a slight tic in her jaw that she was fighting to keep from laughing. He smiled soothingly over at Ron, and Ron relaxed.

"Well, I must say that this essay is not quite the epitome of good role-modeling, not to mention that putting another prefect in detention just because she annoys you is not exactly 'age-appropriate,' as you put it. However, given that Professor Snape overlooked it when Mr. Malfoy attempted to give Miss Granger detention for being a--well, not quite of pure wizard heritage…"

Leon and Ron shared a _Look_. It was well-known throughout Hogwarts that Draco Malfoy prided himself on being what is considered a "pure-blood," and that he looked down on people who are "not quite of pure wizard heritage." There was a word for that condition: Mudblood. Everybody in the Wizarding world also knew that that was a very offensive insult. Even D, who was fairly new to the Wizarding world, understood that the term "Mudblood" referred to bad breeding.

"Well, I've decided to enforce a new policy: Whatever Professor Snape allows his students to get away with, I shall allow my students to as well. Professors Sprout and Sinistra have decided to enforce this policy within their Houses as well. If there are any complaints, we shall use the (granted, rather childish) excuse that 'Professor Snape started it.' So, Mr. Weasley, I shall not punish you for putting Miss Chang in detention, but likewise, her head of House probably will not punish her for her essay answers, in which case I shall step in on your behalf."

Ron gaped open-mouthed as Professor McGonagall left. "W-w-what's gotten into her?" he asked.

"Dunno," replied Leon. He turned around and gave D a kiss goodnight. "_Mimbulus mimbletonia_," he told the Fat Lady.


End file.
